Chapter Twenty-Eight Randall
I’ll never tire of watching her.
Elise works the room with hugs and smiles and laughter, graciously taking praise. At every opportunity, she gives the credit to her cast and crew. I’ve only had a glimpse of how hard this woman works and yet it is everyone else she wants to celebrate.
There is no one like her.
“Close your mouth before your drool reaches your chin,” Gordon says beside me.
“Shut up,” I bark and take a gulp of beer to push everything down.
“Not gonna lie, man, I feel like I’m in over my head half the time,” he mutters before taking his own hearty gulp. “How’d two jocks like us end up with hot smart girls, I’ll never know.”
My thoughts exactly.
“Don’t jinx it, man.”
He makes a gesture of pulling a zipper over his mouth.
“When did this happen with Lily, by the way?”
“She DM’d me after the loss.”
“Ah, so you played the pity card.”
“I played all the cards. Been wanting to hook up with her since the moment we met.”
“Is it serious?”
“Dude, it’s been like a week. Who the hell knows?”
I could tell him that my official relationship with Elise started less than a week ago, and I one hundred percent know I’m all in.
But where’s the fun in that?
“So, you wouldn’t mind if she plays the field, right? I can see Woody making his move.”
From where we’re standing, we watch Lily look up at the tall guy gesturing with his hands as he talks.
“What the fuck,” Gordon grunts, the grip on his beer straining all the veins on his forearm.
Serves him right for teasing me about Elise being on a dating site—which, by the way, is no longer the case since we became a couple.
“You should probably go play the rest of your cards. I’m getting my girl out of here.”
I push off the bar we’re leaning on and beeline for the most beautiful woman in the room. In the world.
I am such a goner.
“Randall Haughland? Hi! We wanted to tell you how much we love the Mavericks. You’re amazing.”
Three girls I don’t recognize block my way. I have no idea where they came from since they seem younger than the group we’re hanging with.
“Do you mind if we take a selfie?” They flank me from each side, the press of their bodies as uncomfortable as critters on my skin. I’m about to wiggle away when I hear her.
“Let me take it for you.” Elise’s voice is at a lower register, but her face is a hundred percent bland.
Before I know it, she’s taken the photo and handed the cell back to the owner.
Then, my girlfriend does the last thing I expect.
“Mr. Haughland, you’re the best!” Elise coos with fluttering lashes. “I’m your number one fan. Can I take a picture with you, too?”
Mr. what-the-hell now?
“Do you mind?” Elise asks the girl whose phone she returned.
The girl shrugs and steps back. Instead of standing beside me like I expect, Elise positions herself so her ass is glued to my groin.
“What are you doing, baby?” I whisper in her ear, fighting down the southbound surge of blood and completely failing.
After the picture is taken, she’s about to pull away, but I grip her waist.
“Nuh-uh, you’re staying right there. My cock is fucking indecent right now, Elise.”
“Um, can we have an autograph?” The girl asks when she returns the phone to Elise.
However, instead of extending a piece of paper, she lowers her blouse to expose the top of a breast. This isn’t the first time fans have flirted with me, but this is another level of bullshit.
“When you get a piece of paper, sure,” I grit past my irritation. “Right now, I gotta take my girlfriend somewhere.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“Yes, this is my girlfriend,” I say in a crystal clear and obnoxiously loud voice.
Just to be sure everyone around us pays attention, I raise my arm up and down, finger pointing to the top of Elise’s head. She gasps in surprise.
“Elise Chen is my girlfriend! Did everyone get that? Good. Excuse us.”
I whisk her away to the sound of hooting and hollering.
I’ve been patient enough sharing Elise with her crowd for the last two hours.
It’s my turn to celebrate with her.
Alone.
“The parking garage is over there,” she says, pointing toward the lobby. I guide her in the opposite direction.
“I’m about to give my number one fan a treat. Now get in there and stick your ass out,” I order when the elevator doors reveal an empty carriage.
“Yes, sir,” she says with a sway of her hips. As soon as the doors close, I pull her tempting ass flush against my arousal. We’re both facing the buttons. Elise sees me use my room key for exclusive access to the top floor.
“Now that I’ve got you to myself, I’m spoiling you,” I whisper in her ear. “I’ve booked us a suite with a hot tub and room service and a bed where I’m going to pamper you so good, you’ll never want to leave.”
She turns to me. Elise weaves her hands over my pecs possessively before resting them at the back of my neck.
“Do I get to pamper you, too? Show you what a devoted fan I am?”
“Devoted, huh. You’re a puck bunny now?”
“Only partially. Haughland is my favorite Mavericks player, but I’m a fan of the man, not the goalie.”
Well, hell if that isn’t the sweetest and sexiest compliment I could have imagined.
Lifting Elise, I press her against the wall to gain leverage so I can kiss her the way I’ve been dying to all night. Hard and hungry, like she’s my last meal on earth.
Since we’re the only ones with access to the top floor suite, I simply carry her out of the elevator doors as soon as they open. Trusting me completely, Elise is lost in our kiss, eyes closed and hands clamoring.
I hold my precious cargo tightly, only releasing her to get naked.
“This bathroom is too much,” she mumbles while watching me flick on the jets of the hot tub filled with water.
“It’s just right,” I say, eager to rub those knots from her shoulders and kiss her breasts till she’s putty in my hands.
Ping.
The first notification startles her, but then she smiles and seems resolved to ignore it.
Ping, ping, ping.
“Maybe I should silence that. It’s probably just a bunch of pictures from the party,” she says apologetically.
Elise tiptoes to the bedroom where our clothes and her purse are scattered on the floor.
Something in my gut tells me to follow, if only to shut off my own phone because I refuse to be interrupted twice tonight.
She’s holding her phone, her face glowing by the screen’s light. Elise’s expression changes from calm to worry, those perfect lips pressing tight while her nose narrows. It’s as if she’s inhaled a breath that she has yet to release.
“What is it?”
Instead of answering, Elise shakes her head and presses her hand over her mouth.
“Elise, what’s wrong?”
“There’s a whole thread about the play.”
I look over her shoulder as she scrolls.
@TheaterPurist72: #CancelBloodWillHaveBlood! How dare Elise Chen butcher Shakespeare’s masterpiece with her so-called “experimental” nonsense. This is an insult to the Bard and true theater lovers everywhere. @ImaginationOhio should be ashamed.
@ShakespeareFanatic: Disagree completely! Shakespeare’s works are meant to be interpreted and reimagined. Chen’s vision brings new life to Macbeth, sparking discussions and engaging new audiences. #SupportBloodWillHaveBlood
@ArtsEnthusiast123: It’s important to push boundaries in theater. @ImaginationOhio reinterpretation challenges conventional norms and invites fresh perspectives. Let’s celebrate creativity instead of stifling it. #InnovativeTheater #BloodWillHaveBlood
@TraditionalTheaterGoer: Shakespeare’s plays are timeless CLASSICS that should NOT be tampered with. This nonsense is an affront to tradition and undermines the integrity of Macbeth. #RespectTheOriginal #CancelBloodWillHaveBlood
@ShakespeareScholar: Actually, Shakespeare himself often adapted existing stories for his plays. Elise Chen’s interpretation offers an artistic lens in the spirit of the early modern period. #ArtisticFreedom #BloodWillHaveBlood
@CulturalCritique: The backlash against Elise’s production highlights the tension between tradition and innovation in the arts. While some may find her approach controversial, it’s crucial to remember that art is subjective and evolves over time. #EmbraceChange #BloodWillHaveBlood
@TheaterCritic85: As a theater critic, I applaud @ImaginationOhio courage to take risks and challenge conventions. Whether you love it or hate it, Chen sparks important conversations about the relevance of Shakespeare in contemporary society. #TheaterIsAlive #BloodWillHaveBlood
@TraditionalTheaterGoer: Take your risks and challenges to YouTube where it belongs. #CancelBloodWillHaveBlood
@ShakespeareScholar: If Shakespeare were alive today he probably would be a social media influencer using YouTube to create content. #ArtisticFreedom #BloodWillHaveBlood
@ImaginationOhio: We hear both sides of the debate and appreciate the passion for Shakespeare’s work. At Imagination Ohio, we strive to foster creativity and dialogue. Elise Chen’s production of Blood Will Have Blood embodies our commitment to innovative storytelling. Let’s continue to celebrate diverse perspectives in the arts. #OhioImagination #BloodWillHaveBlood
@TheaterPurist72: #CancelBloodWillHaveBlood. I for one will be cancelling my season tickets. @ImaginationOhio used to have taste and integrity. Now they’re just pandering to people who know nothing about Shakespeare. Do these people even understand the plays?
@ArtsEnthusiast123: @TheaterPurist72 who are “these people” exactly? You mean women of color authors and directors who use theater as a platform for social awareness? That’s called good theater! Who are YOU to decide who owns the plays? #whitemaleprivilege #InnovativeTheater #BloodWillHaveBlood
“Oh my god,” Elise mutters. “Antonio is going to lose his shit over this.”
“Put it away for tonight, Elise. C’mon, there’s nothing you can do about it right now.”
I can’t believe how calm I’m sounding.
Must be because I’m barely opening my mouth with how much tension is locked in my jaw.
You know how people describe butterflies fluttering in their stomach when they’re stressed?
Well, this is sort of like that, but it’s a bunch of bulls in a fucking stampede ready to plow down every hashtag bullshit that so much as doubts how brilliant Elise is.
I’m going to find that hashtag-theater-purist motherfucker and—
“I know I can’t do anything about it right now,” Elise interrupts my internal rant. “And people say that even bad publicity is good publicity. I’m worried about Antonio. If he’s even remotely regretting choosing me, this will definitely tip the scales.”
Helpless. This is what helpless looks like.
You can love someone so hard you’d kiss the ground they walk on, but you can’t do shit to save her from her mediocre-minded boss.
“What can I do?” I ask, desperate to make it right.
She looks at me as she turns off the phone. “Don’t let me react to anything tonight, OK? Keep it away from me. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“You got it.” I grab her phone and put it in a drawer.
“No matter how curious I am, do not let me near it. I’ve seen it so many times. Directors’ and actors’ knee jerk responses making things worse. I’m too tired to say the right thing. Keep the phone away from me. Promise?”
“It will take a bulldozer to get through me,” I assure her.
She exhales and suddenly all the tension and excitement and doubt deflate her body. Elise’s fatigue is so palpable, it’s like a force that shrinks her.
She’s not a tall woman to begin with. However, her presence is larger than life. She takes up a lot of space with her energy and charm.
I love that about her.
But right now, she looks as small as her five-foot-something and size-petite is. I cherish this rare side of her, too. I want to protect her from anything that makes her feel small and vulnerable.
“Can you do me another favor? Will you, um, will you just hold me?” she asks softly.
In my mind’s eye, I watch myself reach into my chest, rip out my heart, and hand it to her.
“Yeah, I’ll hold you.” I speak solemnly because it isn’t a favor, it’s a promise. “I’ll hold you for as long as you’ll let me.”